


Be Mine (And Not That John Cho Like Demigod's)

by twoseas



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Content, Implied Sexual Content, Jealous Eliot, M/M, Possessive Eliot, Post-Episode: s03e10 The Art of the Deal, emotions on the Muntjac, ship on a ship, talking about feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 00:53:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13986945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoseas/pseuds/twoseas
Summary: Pages have been torn from the book, falling into the possession of a demigod. The squad needs to get the pages back, but the demigod's condition sounds like entrapment waiting to happen - sex with one of them as payment for the pages. When Quentin is chosen to fulfill the bargain, Eliot starts feeling some type of way.





	Be Mine (And Not That John Cho Like Demigod's)

**Author's Note:**

> I freaking love The Magicians. However, my Queliot shipping trash compactor heart was extremely upset because we literally watched them grow old together only to have the next few episodes follow it up with Quentin and Poppy having anxiety sex and Eliot Game of Thrones style seducing King Idri to maintain their alliance. So I wrote this!
> 
> Also the John Cho like demigod is so unimportant except as a plot device and to look like John Cho so please don't look too much into it.

They watched the demigod as he preened, all of them wearing various shades of skeptical, affronted, or incredulous. 

“You’re shitting me,” Margo drawled. 

“Indeed not,” he grinned. Quentin could admit that the demigod was handsome. Tall, nice hands, pretty face, great hair. He even wore Fillorian trousers without a shirt, muscles on full display. If he wasn’t standing in front of his small cottage with the biggest, smuggest grin imaginable after asking something completely ridiculous, Quentin might’ve been swooning. 

“You want to have sex with one of us,” Alice clarified, blinking her combination disgust and disbelief. “And in exchange you’ll give us the pages torn from the book?”

“You want a prostitute, essentially,” Eliot pointed out. 

“No, no,” the demigod corrected. “It’s an equal exchange, you see.”

“An equal exchange for a sexual service,” Julia frowned. “That’s like the textbook definition of prostitution.”

The demigod rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, leaning casually against the door of his cottage. “You magicians have no appreciation for subtlety. Do you agree to my terms?”

“I’m not fucking you,” Kady said at once, hands out. “No way.”

“As attractive as you are,” the demigod simpered. “You weren’t my first choice.”

“Let’s just get this all out there.” Margo cocked her hip and gave the demigod her best what-the-fuck face. “You choose one of us, take us into your sex cottage in the woods, super creepy by the way, and when the deed is done we get the missing pages of the book? No other strings attached?”

“That’s it exactly.” The demigod flexed his arms in a way that was not remotely subtle. “So, are we in agreement or shall I return to my home and await a more willing group of questers?”

“Jesus Christ,” Quentin breathed. The demigod turned his amber eyed gaze towards him, the corner of his mouth twitching into a knowing smirk. “Ok, uh, can we just like, deliberate for a moment? You know, as a group.”

“You may. Call me when you’ve made your decision.” The demigod strolled off towards a stump and grabbed an axe, chopping wood as he whistled. The muscles weren’t distracting at all or anything. 

“That’s a creepy request, right?” Eliot asked at once. “He’s hot in a young John Cho kind of way, but the request itself is weird as fuck.”

“Gods are pigs,” Julia told them matter-of-factly. “But at least he’s giving us a choice.”

“Where do we all stand?” Margo asked, eye flashing searchingly over the group.

“Well, I say no, but apparently I wasn’t first pick anyway so not my problem,” Kady mumbled, stalking off to lean menacingly against a tree. 

“It’s for the quest,” Alice said. “We need the pages to figure out where the next key is and it’s not like he’s asking for anything else. I say fine.”

“Fine, whatever,” Margo rolled her eye. “I guess I’m game. What’s one productive lay in the grand scheme of things.”

Eliot tilted his head and smiled at Margo. “I’m with you, Bambi. I say yes.” 

“Julia?” Quentin lowered his voice and grabbed her hand gently. “What do you think? Your opinion means more in this.”

“I’m fine, Q.” She squeezed his fingers. “Really. It’s not like...it’s different. And honestly, if he didn’t want Kady I don’t know what he’d want with me. So I say yes.”

“Ok, um, guess we tell him we agree?” Quentin shrugged. 

“Yo, Demigod John!” Margo shouted over to the demigod. “We’re in agreement. You dick one of us down, you give us the pages, done deal.”

“Excellent,” the demigod spread his arms wide and welcoming. “Let me pick my lover and we shall be on our way.”

Julia fake gagged at the term ‘lover’ and Quentin covered his mouth to hide his bit off laugh. 

The demigod moved down the line and scrutinized the gathered group, eyes trailing up and down. “Not you, I’m not one for blondes.”

Alice crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, showing she wasn’t one for him either. 

“Not you, you remind me too forcibly of the other one.”

Julia made a face before sharing a look with Kady. Quentin was pretty sure that was exactly what the demigod meant by Julia reminding him of the other one. 

“Not the High King either. Too tall,” he dismissed Eliot with a wave of his hand. Eliot opened his mouth, completely insulted, but didn’t say anything. 

Margo waggled her fingers and gave the demigod a coy smile. He shook his head. “Definitely not. Too demanding.”

Her coy smile turned into an affronted scowl. 

The demigod stopped in front of Quentin, that knowing smirk now wide and predatory. “You, however, have been on my mind since your little group entered my clearing.”

Quentin looked to the others, needing some kind of explanation. They all maintained their own disdainful expressions which really wasn’t all that helpful. “Th-that’s flattering,” he managed to stutter out.

“Just my type,” the demigod purred, leaning in to grip Quentin’s chin between his fingers. “You’re terribly pretty, Quentin Coldwater.”

“Thank you?” Quentin squeaked. 

“Come now, I have many pleasures to show you, pretty thing.” 

The demigod leaned in and kissed Quentin, deep and full of filthy promise, before placing his hand at the small of Quentin’s back and leading him towards the cottage. 

Dazed, Quentin followed the demigod without a look back. 

 

“What do you think we’ve got? Five minutes?” Kady snickered. 

“Don’t be mean,” Julia chastised. The sentiment was undermined by her lips twitching in amusement. 

Alice sat heavily down on a boulder and chipped in her opinion. “Probably more like twenty.”

Arranging her dress around her, Margo raised an eyebrow. “My experience was tampered with so I won’t add to this egregious gossip.”

The others snorted at her lofty tone.

Eliot found his own tree to lean on, refusing to speak up. The other timeline was a different world, a different life. So what if sometimes Quentin made it fast and dirty, other times lasting hours. This was a different life and a different Quentin and he honestly couldn’t say if this would take five minutes or fifteen or fifty. He was also resolutely not counting. 

 

**One Hour Later**

 

“God, just fucking come already,” Kady groaned into her hands. 

The rest of the group was sitting on the ground, the deal taking longer to complete than they expected. Eliot had his head in Margo’s lap, her steady fingers running through his curls in a soothing motion. They still weren’t enough to lift his frown. 

 

**Two Hours Later**

 

“Quentin never took this long with me,” Alice complained. “Never. And I wouldn’t want him to. Jesus, doesn’t this demigod have stuff to do?”

Eliot refused to remember the anniversary nights from another life. 

 

**Three Hours Later**

 

“Maybe we should check on him,” Julia suggested, her fingers rubbing together in a nervous gesture. “Make sure he’s ok.”

“It’s getting dark,” Margo pointed out, her own expression one of barely concealed worry. “We were supposed to head back to the Muntjac by now.”

Alice crept to the lone window at the front of the cottage, moving awkwardly as she tried to peer through the almost fully closed curtains. “I think I can see- oh my god!”

A hand came slamming against the glass followed by a barely muffled moan and a half shouted “fuck!”

Alice straightened up and walked away from the window, eyes averted. “Ok, so they’re still going at it.” 

Kady threw her head back and groaned again. “Goddamn, does Quentin not have a refractory period or what?” 

Eliot glanced down at his hands, his fingers curled into a fist so tight his knuckles were white and his fingernails pressed crescents into the meat of his palm. He loosened them slowly, carefully, making sure he didn’t draw attention to himself. 

 

**Four Hours Later**

 

Quentin stumbled out of the cottage, wobbly and limping. The demigod leaned out after him and pulled him into a slow goodbye kiss. “I had fun, Quentin.”

“Me too,” he mumbled against the demigod’s lips. 

“Look me up when you finish your quest,” he winked, patting Quentin’s ass one last time for good measure. 

“Yup, I will consider that for sure,” Quentin rasped. His throat felt raw and his voice came out husky and deep. “Thanks for the pages.”

Quentin waved the pages with a little smile, making the demigod laugh. “Anytime. And I mean that.”

The cottage door closed behind Quentin, who turned to see the horrified expressions of his friends. “Hey, guys,” he waved the pages again. “Got them.”

Alice rushed over and snatched the pages, fitting them into the book with an irritated frown. They fit in seamlessly, as if they had never been torn. They were still blank, the rest of the story yet to fill in, but at least the book was whole and ready for when the words eventually appeared.

“Ok, help yourself, Alice,” Quentin mumbled to himself. He reached up to smooth his hair, realizing just how dishevelled he still looked. His hair was tangled and mussed, his scalp just a little bit sore from the pulling. His clothes were all on, but they were distinctly wrinkled and he was pretty sure there was a stain or two on his pants. 

“We can leave now?” Kady demanded. “Good. Let’s go.”

The others followed her, Quentin trying his best to discreetly make himself more presentable. 

“So,” Julia pulled up to his side. “How was it? You were in there for hours and you reek of sex.”

“It was...good.” Quentin laughed a little self-deprecatingly. “I mean, I didn’t do much. It was all him. But he was good.”

“Like on a scale of one to me, how good was he?” Margo interrupted, sliding to Quentin’s other side. 

“I think I was a little too messed up to get a fair or accurate reading on your abilities,” Quentin hedged. “And he’s got different parts so…”

Margo threw back her head and laughed, grabbing his arm and patting him. “Good dodge, little Q.”

“Thanks, I’m pretty proud of it,” he grinned. 

“Aw, he put a smile on that mopey face of yours,” Margo cooed, cuffing his chin. “At least he was that good. You’re practically glowing.”

“Come on, the Muntjac is just ahead at the river,” Eliot cut in, moving ahead of them with purposeful strides they had to practically jog to keep up with. He did have unfairly long legs. 

“Don’t think we’re done here,” Margo warned, pointing a finger directly at Quentin. 

He just ducked his head, feeling the heat rising to the surface of his skin. 

 

Back on the Muntjac, Quentin was able to clean up and change into fresh clothes. He felt refreshed, if exhausted and starving and dehydrated. He sat at a table, eating everything within grabbing distance and drinking down water faster than his cup could be filled. Only Eliot and Margo were with him, the others on the deck charting their next destination.

“He sure did a number on you.” Margo tapped his neck playfully, right where a hickey was blooming into a spectacular bruise. “Now spill.”

Swallowing his food and taking another gulp of water, Quentin shrugged. “I mean, there’s not much to say? We just had sex. A lot.”

“For four hours, Q,” Eliot told him a little sharply. He stood from the table, marching across the boards restlessly. “We were on our way to planning a rescue.”

“Sorry for worrying you guys,” Quentin frowned. “But it was fine. It was kind of nice. He gave me some fruits and wine. He was big on foreplay which was helpful. It would almost be romantic if-”

“If you weren’t whoring yourself out for pages in a book,” Eliot snapped. 

Margo’s eyebrows jumped up and Quentin felt more than heard himself make a wounded noise in the back of his throat. “El, babe, you want to calm down?” Margo hazarded. 

“Yeah, what the hell, Eliot?” Quentin put his fork down and glared at the unfinished food on his plate. 

“It’s nothing.” He crossed his arms and tossed his head. “I’m just calling it like it is.”

“Wow, ok.” Quentin counted the increase in his pulse as blood roared in his ears. He kept his gaze on the wood grain of the tabletop. “Last I checked, we were all in agreement about what to do. So you don’t need to make it sound so awful.”

“And how should I say it, Q?” Eliot scoffed. “No matter what tone I use, you were still turning tricks for quest info, right?”

“Eliot,” Margo hissed, low and firm. “Take a breather.”

“What’s this really about?” Quentin asked, fingers curling at the edge of the table, clutching the table top like a lifeline. “Are you jealous?”

“Q,” Margo intoned, serious expression turning to one of worry.

“Jealous?” Eliot sneered. “Jealous?”

“You are,” Quentin realized, eyes widening. “You’re jealous I was picked instead of you. Jesus Christ, that’s so stupid. And childish. So some random demigod liked me more, Eliot. Who gives a fuck?”

“That’s so not what this is about,” Eliot told him, jaw working in frustration. 

“Really, because it really feels that way to me,” Quentin shot back, heart thudding and eyes starting to itch with the threat of tears. “People like you, El. We all know that. Can’t you just be satisfied that this guy was an outlier who happened to want me instead?”

“Guys,” Margo tried to intercede. 

Eliot breathed out an angry exhale. “You’re completely off base.”

“Then what’s it about?” Quentin demanded. “Why do you have such a fucking problem with some guy wanting to fuck me instead of you? What possible reason could you have to stand there treating me like I did something horrible? Huh, Eliot? Tell me!”

“Because you fucked him and not me!” Eliot shouted back. 

Quentin blinked. And blinked again. “Margo,” he cleared his throat. “Can you give me and Eliot a minute?”

Margo looked at both men, hesitating. Eliot nodded wearily. “Yeah. I think that’s a good idea.”

Her heels thudded against the wood of the ship, leaving tense silence in her wake.

“What do you mean?” Quentin asked, speaking barely over a whisper. 

“Nothing, it’s-it’s nothing,” Eliot waved, agitated. 

“Obviously not,” Quentin argued. “What do you mean?”

“I-” Eliot sighed, dropping into a chair next to Quentin. “I don’t like you screwing that guy, ok? I just hate it.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re mine,” Eliot mumbled. “Or you were. In that other life.”

“You know I slept with Poppy,” Quentin told him. “And you didn’t act like this when I told you.”

“Poppy’s a woman and you barely liked her,” Eliot spoke into his palms as he ran his hands over his face. “This felt...different.”

Quentin leaned back. “This is really fucking hypocritical of you, Eliot.”

“What?” Head whipping, Eliot faced Quentin with an aghast expression painted over his face, from the furrowed brow to narrowed eyes to the dropped jaw. 

Dropping his own head so his hair would fall into his face, Quentin spoke without meeting Eliot’s gaze. “Not that long ago you bragged about how you seduced King Idri out of war with Fillory. You literally praised your dick as a peacekeeper.”

“That’s a completely different situation-” Eliot defended himself but Quentin didn’t let him finish the sentence.

“Why? Because you were the one doing it and not me.”

“Q,” Eliot pleaded. “I was keeping a war from happening, I was shoring up alliances.”

“And keeping your engagement to a man you like a lot, El,” Q murmured. “A man who, once magic is back, will be bound to you in exclusivity.”

“We can get around that. Since Ember and Umber are gone, I bet a lot of the Fillorian rules will be too. And who's to say jumpstarting magic doesn’t hit the reset button on the marriage rules.”

“Eliot…”

“And you know that whatever happens, you and Margo are my number ones.” 

Quentin really wanted to believe Eliot’s assertion, given with so much earnestness and belief, but he couldn’t. “Maybe Margo. Not me.”

“Q-”

“We barely see each other anymore,” Q told him, voice shaky. “And it’s not that different from before. We haven’t in awhile. You’re Fillory’s high king and you have other things you worry about while I worry about other things on my side. We come together when we really need to, but we aren’t together, El. The only difference now is that other timeline.”

“We were together for our entire lives, Quentin,” Eliot breathed, reaching out towards him. 

Quentin closed his posture off, denying the silent request for contact. He sucked in a rattling inhale. “Life solving the mosaic was different. It was simple. You didn’t have to worry about ruling Fillory. It was just you and me, pretty much. Then Arielle and Rupert. We were all we had and all we had to worry about. That and solving that stupid fucking mosaic. That’s not how it is here.”

Eliot rose from his seat and crouched down at Quentin’s knee. “Quentin, just because I have other things to care about, just because there’s a country to run, that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

“I know,” Quentin stressed. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying.” Eliot’s hand squeeze his knee while his eyes met his with a desperate kind of longing. 

“I’m saying you don’t get to be an asshole to me when I’m with someone else,” Quentin managed in a strangled voice. “You don’t get to be possessive. We barely even talked about that other life we had together. So you can’t be mad when I do something I wouldn’t have done then.”

“So you wouldn’t have accepted a sex exchange with a John Cho like demigod back then?” Eliot asked, his attempt at humor falling a little flat. 

“No, I would have made sure it was a threesome or foursome or not at all, depending on how cool you and Arielle were about it,” Q tried to joke back, falling even flatter. He sobered. “Eliot, I’m sorry you didn’t like it, I’m sorry you were unhappy.”

“But?” Eliot laughed wetly, eyes red around the edges. 

“But this is how it is.” Quentin ran his fingers through Eliot’s hair, recognizing that it was partly to comfort the other man and partly for his own need. Eliot closed his eyes and leaned into his touch, just like he used to. “I love you and I think you love me, but there’s just no room for me beyond what we had before the key. You’ve got a country to run, Margo to confide in instead, and royal allegiances and engagements to maintain.”

Eliot snatched one of Quentin’s hands, eyes flying open with a fierceness that took Quentin aback. “I absolutely love you and there is always room for you, Quentin. Always.”

“Eliot-”

“No, Q, listen to me.” Eliot held Quentin’s hand gently, turning it over and tracing the lines of his palm with a reverent sort of care. “I get that I was kind of a prick about the demigod thing.”

“Kind of?” 

“Hush now,” Eliot chided. “I’m being emotionally vulnerable, you now how much I don’t like that.”

Quentin planted a quick kiss on the top of his head. “Sorry.”

“Forgiven. Ok. I get why the way I acted was messed up. I do. But Q, I want to be able to act like that. I want to be possessive of your time and your smiles and your body. I want to hoard all the wonderful things about you to myself. Or at least be the only man who gets to have those things. I want you to be mine.”

Sighing out, Quentin ignored the clenching in his chest that urged him to say yes immediately. “Eliot, I’m always going to be yours. You’re my best friend. I’ll always come back to you.”

“But I want more,” Eliot pushed. 

“I think I already pointed out why we can’t,” Q muttered, miserable for having to deny Eliot and himself what they both wanted. 

“Perhaps you should consider my counterpoints,” Eliot wheedled, a persuasive smirk forming. “One, I love you and you love me so that’s the whole requited love thing down pat. Two, once we get magic back we don’t have to worry about war with the Floaters or the Lorians.”

“And your fiance?” Quentin asked dryly. 

“Engagements break all the time, gorgeous.” Winking, Eliot gave him a salacious grin. “So long as there’s no war or reason for a union, there’s no need for a marriage alliance. Which leaves a vacant spot just waiting to be filled.”

Despite it all, Quentin couldn’t help laughing. “You’re the worst.”

“You love me,” Eliot teased.

“I do, but Eliot…”

“No, no, no.” Putting a finger to Quentin’s mouth, Eliot stopped the flow of words. “No more. I am begging you. So it’ll be a lot of work. We’re good at that. So maybe it’ll take a lot of blood, sweat, and tears. We’re good at that too. Q, please, just give me a chance.”

“It’s not about you, Eliot,” Quentin mumbled against the finger still pressed to his lips. “It’s about what’s even possible.”

“And I think we are,” Eliot declared with conviction. “Quentin Coldwater, will you be in a committed, semi-monogamous relationship with me, refusing to bed any handsome men or John Cho like demigods from this point on without consulting or including me in the activities?”

“You’re really hung up on how he kind of looks like John Cho.”

“Stop sassing me, Coldwater. I’m waiting for an answer.”

“Yes, ok. Yes.” Quentin nodded. “Now please get your finger off my face.”

Eliot put his hand down only so he could replace his finger with his lips, kissing Quentin chastely, but firmly and full of affection. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

Quentin bowed his head, blush crawling up to his cheeks. “I know I won’t.”

“Now, I want to say let’s have sex…”

“Oh, god, please no. Not tonight. Or tomorrow,” Quentin added immediately. “I’m so fucking sore right now.”

Lips pursed in a slight frown, Eliot nodded nonetheless. “Let the record show I’m unhappy about that, but willing to let it go in exchange for nighttime cuddling.”

“I am always available for you to cuddle,” Quentin allowed. 

“Can I invite Margo?” Eliot smiled imploringly. “She likes a good cuddle.”

“Margo is also welcome,” Quentin chuckled. 

“Bambi!” Eliot shouted in the direction of the stairs. “I know you’re listening at the door! Come hug us!”

Margo came running down the stairs, hands coming together in a cheery clap. “We’re all good? And cuddling?”

“We’re all great. Now, to the bed,” Eliot ordered, tugging a smiling Quentin up and out of his chair and towards the king’s quarters. 

“Little Q, you’re gonna love it,” Margo told him with a smirk. “Our cuddle game is so strong you’ll forget all about the wild, dirty demigod sex you just had.”

Faced with such open affection, Quentin couldn’t help but duck his head. But that didn’t stop him from beaming. “I look forward to it.”

Eliot pulled them down onto the bed with a satisfied sigh that the other two couldn’t help but mimic. Their cuddle game really was strong.

 


End file.
